


Word Perfect

by FunkyinFishnet



Series: The New Normal [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst, Body Image, Crossdressing, F/M, Friendship, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Male Slash, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day, d’Artagnan is still working out who he is and how he can be that both in and outside of work. He does so with Athos’ constant support and love and the friendship of Constance, Jacques, Aramis and Porthos. Bit by bit, he lets them know what he needs, they never disappoint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to my earlier fic [The Glitter On And Under Skin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1749422/). After I read [The New Normal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1807657) by breathtaken which was inspired by _The Glitter On And Under Skin_ , I was inspired to write this. It's sort of a ouroboros of fic writing lol. So thanks muchly to breathtaken for inspiring this and for taking my version of these characters in such an interesting direction :)

 

 

D’Artagnan was always sure to announce himself noisily when he entered Jacques’ office because when Jacques was working he didn't appreciate being unexpectedly disturbed. The room was on the second floor of Jacques and Constances's house with lots of windows and natural light flooding in. There were tables piled with fabric, patterns and scissors and pins. There were mannequins, male and female forms, pinned with swatches and pieces of outfits. It didn't look like there was enough room for Jacques to work in but he never seemed to notice, elbow deep in intent inspiration and full of careful precise movements.

 

 

He didn't mind if d'Artagnan sat down beside him because d'Artagnan asked questions that he actually wanted answers to, he wanted to learn more. D'Artagnan liked spending time with Jacques; Jacques had gotten an insightful grip on d’Artagnan’s swirling feelings quicker than anybody. Almost immediately, before d'Artagnan had begun forming any firm ideas himself, Jacques had kissed d'Artagnan's cheek and offered his arm when d'Artagnan had worn a dress and high heels and he'd done it without any sign of discomfort. It was something that had apparently been logical and easy for Jacques.

 

 

So d'Artagnan liked sitting in Jacques' workspace and watching him create beautiful clothing out of nothing at all. D'Artagnan had asked him before where his ideas came from and Jacques' eyebrows had done a funny dance.

 

 

“You're asking me to define inspiration,” he'd pointed out a little flatly.

 

 

Well, yes, okay that was asking a lot, wasn't it? So d'Artagnan settled for asking why certain cuts and drapings were used, how was it different designing for men who wore dresses compared to women? What was Jacques' favourite thing that he'd ever designed?

 

 

There were other questions on the tip of d'Artagnan's tongue but he didn't ask them yet. Jacques seemed to sense that there was something d'Artagnan was wrestling with but apart from a few pointedly expectant looks, he didn't push, not yet anyway.

 

 

One Sunday, when Athos was having lunch with Aramis and Porthos, d'Artagnan watched as Brandy, one of the men he'd gotten to know at St Patrick's, had a fitting with Jacques. Brandy looked amazing in a teal dress and Jacques didn't seem bothered at all by the way that Brandy pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep himself balanced or how he fondly pinched Jacques' chin in thanks. In fact once the fitting was over, Jacques accepted payment and kissed Brandy on both cheeks without missing a beat.

 

 

Once Brandy had left, Jacques gestured for d'Artagnan to stand up so that some measurements could be checked – Jacques always liked to be super-precise. D’Artagnan was happy to comply, Jacques made him beautiful clothing, for girl and boy days. D’Artagnan never asked Jacques to make him more dresses etc but Jacques kept coming up with them and d’Artagnan was hardly going to refuse such gorgeous bespoke tailoring.

 

 

Constance had nudged d’Artagnan more than once with an amused little smile. “You’re quite the muse, you know.”

 

 

D’Artagnan always blushed at that because his body was…well, sometimes it felt almost close to right but it still often made his skin crawl too. Jacques wasn’t the type to say things to make people feel better though, he always spoke the harsh truth and he seemed to like designing for d’Artagnan. That was really flattering and made d’Artagnan preen sometimes, just a little. Aramis always teased him about it, Aramis was probably jealous because Jacques refused to even consider designing any clothing for Aramis.

 

 

“Ow!”

 

 

Jacques had just jabbed him with a pin and looked completely unrepentant about it. “Pay attention or I’ll charge you double.”

 

 

D’Artagnan snorted at that because Jacques always more than halved his prices when asking d’Artagnan to pay up for the clothes and services rendered. D’Artagnan had tried paying him more but Jacques always refused. According to Constance, the fact that d’Artagnan wore Jacques’ clothing at work and in his free time was perfect advertising and Jacques accepted that as more than adequate when it came to making up the numbers.

 

 

Still, d’Artagnan paid attention because Jacques would definitely use a pin again if he thought that d’Artagnan’s mind was wandering. Now he was looking at d’Artagnan even more pointedly than he had done all afternoon. Ah, he really did want to know what d’Artagnan had been mulling over. The pin-stab had probably been part of Jacques’ strategy to get d’Artagnan to talk.

 

 

It was kind of working. Well, d’Artagnan wanted to talk anyway and now was as good a time as any. He glanced down and gathered his thoughts. He’d managed to talk about this with Athos recently and the outcome had made him feel good about …well, everything. He’d felt…settled, that was the word, and he wanted more of that, he wanted Constance and Jacques to be on-board with how he was progressing too. He couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t be, not after everything they’d done for him, but still his heart hammered hard, his skin felt tight, and for some reason he couldn’t remember how he’d started this conversation before with Athos.

 

 

“Pronouns,” he blurted out.

 

 

Jacques raised an eyebrow as he did something experimental with a swatch of honey-coloured fabric against d’Artagnan’s skin.

 

 

“Pronouns.”

 

 

D’Artagnan laughed a little helplessly. “Yeah, God I think this was easier the first time I did it.”

 

 

Jacques tutted out a noise that could have been described as encouraging as he jotted down a couple of things in his notebook. His gaze was studying but warm. He adjusted the fabric pinned to d’Artagnan’s trousers before nodding minutely but meaningfully, like he worked out what d’Artagnan was on about despite d’Artagnan’s nonsense words. D’Artagnan’s responding smile was wide; his heart feeling like it was going to take off. His skin still felt tight though.

 

 

He thought about hugging Jacques and then just went for it. Jacques hugged him back without hesitation for a couple of seconds and then eased himself away. He wasn’t very tactile apart from with Constance of course and sometimes with d’Artagnan too. D’Artagnan was sort of flattered about that. Right now, his heart felt too big for his chest. He worried about these kinds of moments, even though Athos, Jacques and Constance had been nothing but supportive about his evolving sense of who he was. So often a lifetime of very internal unhappiness affected the way he viewed things especially himself, which wasn’t fair on his friends because they seemed to like whoever he was.

 

 

Athos had told him before that he had support no matter what and not just from Athos. D’Artagnan had to remember these moments, these people helping him move forward. He had to hold onto them.

 

 

Jacques cupped a hand to d’Artagnan’s shoulder, turning him this way and that. “I think this one will work nicely.”

 

 

D’Artagnan pushed back the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm him and cleared his throat. Jacques wasn’t best suited to dealing with tidal waves of feelings after all. “I think it will too.”

 

 

When d’Artagnan eventually went to leave the room to call Athos, Jacques kissed him on both cheeks.

 

 

*

 

 

D’Artagnan talked to Constance about it later that week. Well actually he didn’t have to put it into words because she was Constance and was therefore extremely good at working things out, hence her excellence at her job. They’d just come in from one of their nights out together, d’Artagnan was wearing the underwear that Athos had bought him and his leather dress, the one that Jacques had made him for the New Year’s party. Constance looked particularly bright-eyed as Jacques made them cups of tea and offered them toast.

 

 

“She was popular tonight,” Constance said, her eyes on D’Artagnan.

 

 

Her tone was warm but her expression was a clear question and d’Artagnan felt a little jerk of surprise and tension and then a lot of dizzy happiness because Constance was a woman of research and maybe she’d talked to Jacques too and it just sounded so good to hear her say that. It was like something else had properly slotted into place. D’Artagnan smiled and Constance smiled back, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

 

 

They’d danced a lot that night and both d’Artagnan and Constance had fended off many advances that neither of them had been at all interested in. D’Artagnan had enjoyed himself and apparently it had shown. Jacques looked at him in a way that could have been fond.

 

 

D’Artagnan smiled giddily into his tea, Constance still holding his hand.

 

 

*

 

 

Athos came over for dinner a few nights later. He wore a very nice dark jacket over equally-dark slacks and a button-down shirt. He looked edible, well he always did but this was Athos being a bit casual and a bit smart and it suited him. He brought a bottle of wine with him; it was the kind of quality that made Jacques raise his eyebrows appreciatively. Constance hugged Athos warmly and said that it was good to see him. It was.

 

 

D’Artagnan liked evenings like this, when Athos came over and spent time with them all. It didn’t happen often enough because both couples liked to make the most of the time that they got alone and they were all very busy people who were often tired from work. But Constance liked Athos and even Jacques had nothing bad to say about him because he knew that Athos had had nothing to do with the epic prank that Aramis and Porthos had played on Jacques and that even though Athos led the team, he couldn’t curtail all of their bad ideas.

 

 

It had been a monumentally epic prank though, d’Artagnan was scrupulously sure to keep that opinion to himself.

 

 

Now Athos was sat beside d’Artagnan, having shed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt a little at the neck. He looked almost relaxed which pleased d’Artagnan, that he could help Athos relax and that Constance and Jacques didn’t make him feel tense. D’Artagnan toyed with the stem of his wine glass and smiled at it.

 

 

“Got something special to smile about?” Athos asked him quietly, his arm stretching out along the back of d’Artagnan’s chair.

 

 

D’Artagnan directed his smile towards Athos but Jacques spoke up before he could answer “The shift top I made her, I should think.”

 

 

D’Artagnan’s smile flowered even more at the casual and easy way that Jacques had spoken. He’d been saying things like that since his conversation with d’Artagnan, Constance too. They made it sound so easy and comfortable, like it made perfect sense to them. D’Artagnan let out a breath, his heart squeezing. He loved them both so much.

 

 

Athos pressed a hand to d’Artagnan’s shoulder and then leaned in briefly to kiss him. D’Artagnan smiled against Athos’ mouth and then turned back towards Jacques, rubbing the soft fabric of the top between his fingers.

 

 

“It is beautiful, Jacques. Thank you.”

 

 

“Of course.”

 

 

“Of course.”

 

 

*

 

 

It felt too easy sometimes but then Athos still had nights when he disappeared too much into his own head, full of stark awful memories, and sometimes he dealt with that by drinking a bit too much. He didn’t do it as often as he had done but it was a hard habit for him to kick. D’Artagnan understood that. Athos was always brimming with self-loathing the next morning; sure that he’d disgraced himself, particularly in front of d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan usually told him that he’d seen worse; he was friends with Aramis and Porthos, wasn’t he?

 

 

On those nights, Athos let d’Artagnan hold him close and d’Artagnan let him shake and didn’t say a word because what good would words do? For d’Artagnan, words had been one of the tools he’d used to reshape himsel, or to work out what shape he actually was sometimes. But words were used against him too, because not everybody accepted or understood. Athos’ ex-wife apparently used words incredibly vindictively. Even Aramis had nothing good to say about her. D’Artagnan hadn't met her yet but he had a horrible suspicion that he would someday soon because Anne, or Milady as she was calling herself now, was still notably interested in her ex-husband's life. D’Artagnan wasn't looking forward to that meeting at all.

 

 

He wasn't looking forward to a few of his upcoming client meetings either. Treville had assured him that he could wear his girl clothes for such meetings, that the company supported him, but sometimes the clients didn't. Some of them made sour-lemon faces when they saw him on girl days. D'Artagnan learned to never make any reference to what he was wearing; he just led the meetings as though he was wearing one of his favourite suits. Some people looked at him funny but didn't comment on his clothing and just got on with the meeting, but he did get several pointed comments, a few downright nasty defamations of character, and one client actually walked out because of what d’Artagnan was wearing at the time. There was also the time a guy tried to chat d'Artagnan up afterwards, not very discreetly or flatteringly. Having had some practice at places like St Patrick's, d'Artagnan had no problem letting him down politely, stating firmly that he had a long-term partner who was actually standing right over there.

 

 

Still, it was never fun to have someone sneer and claim that d’Artagnan wasn't capable of doing his job just because he was wearing a dress. He stayed professional though, even if he did often have to take a few moments in the break room, sitting down and locking his knees together so that he didn't rattle apart. Sometimes it was Porthos who came to keep him company, wrapping a companionable arm around him and humming and quietly singing songs until d'Artagnan felt able to do his job again without shaking. D'Artagnan loved Porthos' singing voice; it was comforting, warm, and rich. It did things to Aramis too.

 

 

Athos always wanted to sit beside d'Artagnan during those moments but he was often in the thick of important work or meeting with equally important people. Treville understood if Athos had to suddenly duck out but d'Artagnan didn't want to frequently disrupt Athos' work, he didn't want Athos to get a reputation for being unreliable. So Porthos, Aramis and Constance made sure that d'Artagnan wasn't alone after difficult meetings. Aramis would keep up a stream of salacious gossip until d'Artagnan was laughing again. Then Aramis would look pleased and sort of adoring almost which always made d'Artagnan flush happily and kiss Aramis' cheek.

 

Aramis liked wearing d'Artagnan's lipstick marks with pride.

 

 

Constance promised d’Artagnan copious amounts of wine and a _Great British Bake-Off_ catch-up session. He'd rest his head against her shoulder, closing his eyes as her fingers stroked through his hair. Then ten minutes later her phone alarm would go off and she'd remind him to touch up his make-up before disappearing back to her office before someone, probably one of Richelieu's underlings, told Louis or Anne that Constance wasn't at her desk working on the contracts that were needed in triplicate by the end of that very day. Sometimes d'Artagnan was convinced that Constance was Superwoman, how else was she able to always have her eye on everything?

 

 

So some days were spectacularly shitty but the people who consistently spent those days with him were pretty amazing. Sometimes it felt like things were pretty balanced out and sometimes it felt like the total opposite.

 

 

“Join the club,” commented Constance with a gentle wry smile, handing him a plate of homemade scones.

 

 

Yeah, maybe he had.

 

 

*

 

 

Athos wasn't asleep, d'Artagnan knew that. Athos' breathing sort of whistled when he was really under, now he was just lying there with his eyes closed. He wasn't tense though and he'd tugged d'Artagnan in to curl up under his chin, where d'Artagnan felt very comfortable and happy indeed. But there were thoughts weighing on d'Artagnan's mind and maybe that was what was keeping Athos awake, d'Artagnan's distraction.

 

 

He cleared his throat and Athos tilted his chin a tiny bit, indicating that he was awake and listening. D'Artagnan pressed himself against Athos' body in response, wanting Athos to know how important these times were to him. Just being able to lie down together, knowing that Athos was relaxed and comfortable so close to him was a great feeling. D'Artagnan didn't think he'd ever get enough, after the week he'd had he really needed it too.

 

 

He stayed close and said quietly into the dark. “I want Aramis and Porthos to know.”

 

 

Athos nodded, understanding immediately, and after a pause answered “Do you want me to tell them?”

 

 

D'Artagnan bit his lip. He sort of wanted to immediately say 'yes.' He trusted Aramis and Porthos, they'd reacted brilliantly to his recent clothing decisions and there was no reason to suspect that they'd behave otherwise at hearing this latest development. But them knowing without him having to explain himself would be nice. Sometimes he wanted people to just instinctively _know_ what he was going through, what he’d decided, with no explanations needed, but it had taken him years to work this much out for himself, hadn’t it? How were other people supposed to immediately recognise what had taken him so long to get to grips with? He was asking a lot, he knew that, but sometimes he was tired of trying to verbalise and explain himself, of having to expose his tender still-foetal thoughts. Wasn't it somebody else's turn? Maybe it was just his bad week super-charging his irritation or maybe he was just tired of this.

 

 

Athos pressed a kiss to the top of d'Artagnan's head. “We're having a kick around tomorrow.”

 

 

D'Artagnan nodded and brushed his lips against Athos' chest, because Athos doing things like kicking a football around with his two closest friends was a really good sign. Aramis and Porthos were determined to keep Athos active and not thinking about Milady or drowning himself in alcohol. D'Artagnan was a great help there according to Aramis and Porthos, something they always said with a wink and a grin. He was a help according to Athos too.

 

 

“I could meet you for a drink afterwards?”

 

 

“I'll let you know when we're done.”

 

 

Something loosened inside d'Artagnan and he let out a breath. He'd had a pretty rough week, maybe that was part of it, part of why he felt a little raw and knotted-up inside. Maybe he just wanted all the people he was closest to to know now. They might have worked it out already and were just waiting for the go-ahead from him or maybe it would be a complete surprise to them. He wasn't as worried about their reaction as he might have been once because he'd experienced Athos, Jacques and Constance's reactions and he'd dealt with really awful reactions at work already. He trusted Aramis and Porthos not to be that bad. He trusted them.

 

 

So the next day d'Artagnan met them at the pub, determined not to be nervous and wearing a denim skirt and a top with loose capped sleeves, the necklace that Athos had given him tinkling underneath. He was still experimenting with casual girl day wear, Constance was a real help with that and didn't mind shopping with him, sharply challenging any judgemental shop assistants with threats of future legal action. He still got embarrassed in those kinds of places, surrounded by women’s clothing and people staring at him, but Constance was always there with him, encouraging and prodding and making sure he bought the stuff that she could tell he liked. Sometimes it was even fun.

 

 

Aramis and Porthos bought him a drink as Athos, smelling sweaty and looking relaxed, kissed him hello. Porthos was wearing an old Tottenham Hotspur shirt and Aramis was teasing him about the team’s current position in the Premier League. They came back to the table loaded with glasses.

 

 

“Lemonade for Athos and a white wine for the lady.”

 

 

Aramis smiled warmly, admiringly, as he put a wine glass down in front of d’Artagnan. Porthos was smiling too, the expression sort of deep and gentle on his face and he looked pleased. D’Artagnan looked down suddenly; they weren’t treating him any differently. It made something settle in his belly, more weight falling away from him, weight that he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying. He really did have amazing friends, even if his steps along this journey of self-discovery were still slow and unsure. They were still there, right beside him. He smiled back, his throat tight, and Aramis and Porthos began wondering aloud about ordering something to eat.

 

 

Maybe they’d have a conversation about this sometime later, maybe they’d have questions like Constance did and maybe d’Artagnan wouldn’t mind trying to answer then because it was Aramis and Porthos, because they cared. Hopefully. He leaned into Athos who kissed his neck and stroked one of d’Artagnan’s sleeves appreciatively. D’Artagnan’s smile broadened, Athos managed to make him feel more secure no matter what he was wearing thanks to little gestures like that, because they were always honest and they were from Athos. They made him feel sexy too.

 

 

He’d secretly asked Jacques to make Athos a suit for the next company party, nothing flashy but something that would really suit Athos and surprise people too. Jacques had jumped at the idea because firstly he’d been very unimpressed when d’Artagnan had revealed Athos’ clothes-buying technique (“He trusts the people at _Selfridges?_ Oh no, I think we can do better than that.”) and secondly because Jacques was always keen to do things that’d knock Aramis and Porthos sideways. D’Artagnan was looking forward to seeing their expressions too, especially since he’d recently lost four hands of cards to Porthos. Constance always said he had no one to blame but himself. Porthos had to have been cheating, but how?

 

 

It’d be nice to present Athos with a surprise gift. He’d already bought amazing things for d’Artagnan, just because he wanted to help d’Artagnan out on this journey. And every day he still wanted to be on that journey with d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan didn’t think he’d ever be able to thank him enough for everything, but he was going to try.

 

 

He swallowed, looking around at his friends, and raised his wine glass in a silent overwhelmed toast. Three other glasses joined in.

 

 

_-the end_


End file.
